Meeting Her Match
by ThePossibilityOfMagic
Summary: In her years as a cop, Kate Beckett had come up against more than her fair share of suspects, some more difficult and challenging than others. But in all that time, there had never been one quite like this.


_So, this little oneshot is a little rougher around the edges than I would like, but thanks to my frustratingly large study-load I had to sacrifice a little bit of editing time in order to get this done by my deadline. So, Oshi, this one's for you. Happy birthday, kid._

* * *

It took five minutes for her to actually realize what she was doing.

She was _stalling._

The entrance of the bar/club/whatever was barely thirty feet from her car door and yet here she sat, still buckled in, keys still in the ignition. Shit, thank God she hadn't let the guys come along. They'd wanted to accompany her– more so for the potential perks of the scene than for support– but she'd flat-out refused, determined not to let them see her... well, exactly like she was now.

Off-balance. Uncertain. _Nervous._

Of course, they didn't _know_. They didn't know that this suspect was different, was... dangerous. Not in the traditional sense, but... for her. He had a power over her, one she was determined to keep hidden, keep trapped far below the surface, and the last thing she needed was to have the often too-perceptive eyes of her entourage finding the chinks in her armor, seeing the vulnerability that lay underneath.

So, this was one task she'd be handling on her own.

Realizing she still hadn't moved, Beckett blew out a frustrated hiss, jabbing a finger at her seatbelt catch to release it. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she unthinkingly flipped the visor down, already half-reaching for her purse. The moment her eyes met her reflection, however, she instantly froze, realizing the sheer ludicrousness of what she was doing. Biting back an irate growl, she swiftly raised her hand, forcefully slamming the visor shut once more.

She was _not_ going to pretty herself up just to collect a suspect.

Even this one.

Yanking the key from the ignition, she shoved open the door and stepped out, making a quick check for presentability– not because of _him, _but because she was here representing the NYPD, and she was a professional, dammit– before shutting the door firmly behind her.

Checking her badge and gun– not that she was likely to need the latter, not in a place like this– she pushed the keys down into her pocket, then straightened her shoulders, drawing in a deep breath.

_Just do your job, Beckett._

Setting her jaw, Beckett swiftly crossed the distance to the club entrance, silencing the black-suited bouncer with a challenging look and a flash of her badge.

As he grudgingly stepped aside, she saw him lift a finger to the earpiece in his ear– seriously, was this a party, or a secret service convention?– and immediately lifted a finger of her own, poking it into his rock-hard chest.

"If I wanted you to announce me, I'd have asked for it," she growled, looking up into unblinking slate eyes that seemed unnatural without a shield of dark plastic covering them. When the MIB wannabe failed to move or respond, Beckett shifted closer, adding a layer of threat.

"We clear on that, Chuckles?"

The mocking name evoked no outward response, but clearly her message had been received loud and clear. His expression unchanging, the bouncer slowly lowered his hand, his arm falling to his side.

"Good boy," she smirked, patting him once on the chest before retracting her arm and turning for the door. "I'll make sure your master gives you a treat later."

With that, she stepped through the doorway, instantly engulfed by the music that radiated from the dance floor. Skirting the clusters of talking and laughing socialites– all dressed in clothes that could easily have cost her a month's pay– she wondered if Chuckles out there would actually follow her order, or whether she would come upon her suspect surrounded by a posse of bodyguards and lawyers and agents and trained monkeys and whoever else he had that would come running at the click of his fingers.

Honestly, it made little difference either way; that display outside was partly because yes, she would like the opportunity to observe her mark in his natural habitat for a moment before making her move, but also partially because– especially going into a place like this– she needed that reminder that she was still Kate Beckett, Homicide Detective.

That her power, though not the same, was just as real as theirs.

She may not be a multimillionaire, but she had the full force of the NYPD at her back, and she would not let these people– with their condescending looks, many of which she could already see being aimed in her direction as she scanned the place– push her around.

Pausing in place for a moment, she cast her eyes over the thickest knots in the crowd, thinking that surely that was where he must be– he was the man of the night, after all. The proverbial belle of the ball, though most likely without the dress. Then again, with these elite circles, you never quite knew what you would find...

After another minute of fruitless searching, she widened her sweep, slowly turning on the spot as she searched for the face she was looking for, the one she'd seen from countless pictures–

_There._

To her surprise, he wasn't as she'd expected to find him– that being, in the centre of an adoring crowd, a drop-dead-gorgeous girl hanging off either arm– but stood instead by the practically deserted bar, conversing easily with a beautiful younger woman. Even though she couldn't hear the words to their conversation, the strength of their connection was clear.

Pausing, Beckett gave herself a moment to simply observe them– just to suss out the scene, of course, not because she needed time to prepare herself or anything– before she unclipped her badge once more, moving purposefully across the room.

Halting several feet behind him, she straightened her shoulders, putting on her best cop face. Determined not to let this beat her– she'd faced plenty of her own demons, she could handle _him_– she cleared her throat slightly, then spoke up, her voice professional, strong, unflinching.

"Mr Castle?"

Instantly he turned, pen out and practiced smile already in place.

"Where would you like it?"

Lifting her badge like a shield– not that she needed protection from those deep blue eyes, stubbled jaw, and smoke-and-honey voice, definitely not– Beckett pushed back everything else, and simply did what she did best.

Her job.

"Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD. We're going to need to ask you a few questions about a murder that took place earlier tonight."

Seeing the look of stunned confusion spread across his ruggedly handsome face, Beckett felt something rise up in her chest, something that almost entirely blocked out the small, star-struck fangirl that was trembling deep within her, something she had been trying to grasp since the moment she'd pulled her car out front of the club.

Power.

He may have some strange form of power over her, but with the badge in her hand, cuffs at her waist, and his freedom in her grasp– not that he would likely spend more than a few hours in custody, of course, because honestly no one truly believed he was even involved– she was most definitely at the advantage.

Plus, she thought with dark satisfaction, it was hardly difficult to defeat an opponent who wasn't even aware of the weapon they held.

Ohh, this was going to be fun.

* * *

_Okay, okay, admit it. You figured out the 'mystery suspect' by like the fourth line in. But it's okay. I don't mind. _

_Hopefully, though, you did find it at least a little entertaining, and maybe it even added another layer to their first meeting for you– I know __I've__ always totally wondered what was going through Beckett's mind in those last moments before her appearance at the party, because come on, let's face it– he __is__ her celeb crush, and we all know just how __we__ would feel if we were about to meet __ours__!_

_But anyhow, as always, any comments/suggestions for improvement are welcome!_

_Thanks for reading, guys!_


End file.
